“I won’t,” he replied without hesitation.
“I’m serious, Ericen.” I folded my arms, the chill of the thickening mist sending a shiver down my spine.
His grin faded, and he drove the tip of his sword into the soft earth at his side. “So am I. Losing isn’t an option. Why do you care?”
WhydidI care? Ericen might not be as horrible as he’d led me to first believe, but if war broke out this instant, he would still be my enemy. I’d told Kiva I thought I could trust him in time. But how much time did we really have?
I don’t want to be your enemy.That was what he’d said to me that night in the stables.
Maybe he didn’t have to be.
Twenty-Three
With each passing day, the weather grew colder as Res grew stronger, but he never showed the slightest hint of magic. Even as his fluffy down molted into feathers of iridescent black streaked with midnight blues and purples and he struggled about his blanket, his thin wings opening and closing and pressing against the ground like a pair of arms to steady himself, no gust of wind came to his aid, no spark of lightning erupting in his frustration.
I sent a letter back to Caliza expressing my fears, then threw myself into my training with Ericen. We met each evening, trading blows alongside stories about past teachers and lessons. The ease with which we talked made the ground feel unsteady beneath my feet, as if it were constantly changing its tilt, uncertain of which way to send me, and leaving me unsure where I stood with the prince.
My afternoons I spent training with Res. Caylus and I had created a miniature obstacle course for him, using chicken as bait to encourage him from one point to the other. When he was strong enough, I carried him to the bottom of the stairs, then sat a few steps up with a handful of chicken.
Frustration ebbed along the link alongside a distinct feeling I’d identified as hunger. “Up the stairs then,” I told him, waving the chicken.
In response, he let his wings droop and hung his head.
I stared at him. “Are youbegging?”
Caylus stuck his head out from the workshop. “Oh, um. That might be my fault.”
I gave him an exasperated look, and he smiled sheepishly. “I mean, he just…well, look at him. He looks so sweet and adorable when he does that and I—” He bit his lip as my expression hardened. “Well, the point is I think he expects it to work now.”
I groaned, covering my face with my hand. “Fantastic. Now he thinks being adorable will get him whatever he wants.”
“He’s not entirely wrong.”
“Caylus!”
Caylus’s face flushed, and he muttered something about boiling liquids before fleeing back into the workshop. I glowered at Res, who’d given up on his show ofpoor little mewhile we’d been talking but resumed drooping the moment I looked at him.
“Up the stairs or no chicken,” I said, folding my arms. It took a few minutes, but Res finally gave in. The first stair presented a struggle, but once he figured out he could hop up each one, he reached me quickly. I gave him chicken, then climbed farther up the stairs, and we repeated the process until we reached the top.
“Great,” I said. “Now let’s do it again.”
Something like a groan ground down the cord between us, and I laughed. Was this what Estrel had felt like, pushing me through drills?
We repeated the exercise until Res was breathing heavily and his wings drooped from exhaustion instead of dramatics. He’d figured out that if he fluttered his wings as he leapt, it gave him an extra boost, which meant he got to the chicken faster.
It would be a couple more weeks before he could fly, but each new tiny indication that he was growing closer made me shiver in anticipation.
* * *
A week and endless training sessions later, I sat with Caylus in his workshop, marveling at how much Res had grown. He stood taller than my waist and could eat more than his weight in chicken and did so happily. In fact, he was obsessed, flopping to the floor whenever I refused to give him more and lifting his wings like a sheet to protect his food as he ate. We’d had to start getting chicken from other sources than just Tarel, lest he start wondering why I needed so much.
Res hopped over to where I sat, sending Gio hissing and scurrying away. The kitten clambered up Caylus’s leg, scurrying along his side until he’d reached the safety of his shoulder.
Res nudged my hand with his beak. His movements were already smooth and lithe, the strength and grace of the crow he would become evident in the growing cords of muscle along his lean form. Unlike normal birds, crows had almost reptilian bodies, making them thicker and sturdier than their featherlight counterparts.
I pulled a piece of chicken out of the pouch in my pocket and tossed it to him. He swallowed it one gulp and nudged me for more, making a low throaty noise reminiscent of Gio’s purring.
By the time we escaped and reached Trendell nearly three weeks from now, Res would be almost full-grown.
